Time and Tide
by Aelius Kerr
Summary: Lujayn Holt is an ordinary girl who gets thrown into the Doctor Who Universe. Will she manage to survive? OC, Possible Multiple Doctors/OC


**This story takes place in winter of 2015. However, Toby Logan is still a paramedic for the purpose of this story. Flashpoint is also set back to just after Lewis died. Enjoy.**

Hello, there, newcomers. Welcome to my dreamscape. I'm called Lujayn. Lujayn Holt. No, no, no, not Lou-jane. Lou-ain. C'mon, it's not that difficult. Or it shouldn't be, at least. Say it with me, now: Lou-ain. There, see? That wasn't so hard, now was it? Yes, I know it's strange. No, I'm not changing my name! Especially for someone in my head (Get it?). I like it. It suits me. Hm, sorry? What did you say?

Whaddaya mean, boring? Yes, well, I suppose so, when you put it that way. Mind you, I am asleep at the moment. Yes, yes, okay, I get it! Thank you. Now... Any questions you would like to ask before I get started?

Where am I from? Yeah, the accent's a bit muddled. Er, I was born in America. Yes, that's the US of A! Known for our Big Macs. I currently reside in Toronto. Yes, that's in Canada. No, we do not live in igloos. Yes, I'm sure. That's only up North. Can I move on now? Thank you.

Oh, yeah. The two shadowy figures are my best friends. The one on the right is Toby Logan, and the one on the left is Spike Scarlatti. Spike is not his actually name, guys.

_No_, I don't think they're hot. I think they're adorable, and that anyone would be lucky to have either one of them. Me? Hell no. What have you been smoking?! That's... just wrong. On _so_ many levels. They're like my brothers. For all intents and purposes, they **are** my brothers.

Toby is a paramedic who consults with the IIB (and I have no idea what IIB actually stands for). Spike works for the Police Strategic Response Unit. He's the bomb specialist. And very good with computers. My own personal techie. No, you can't 'jump' them. Why? You serious?! It's my dreamscape! Don't push your luck. I could easily put you in timeout.

What do I do? Oh, I work at the dispatch. I usually take the night shift. They just switched my schedule around, so now I work mornings, unfortunately. Hey! It's not boring! I had to talk a woman through labour yesterday. The miracle of life. Yes, okay, I'm moving on, no need to shout!

As you can see, the desktop of my dreamscape fluctuates from time to time. At the moment, it's what I imagine Gallifrey looks like. The way the Tenth Doctor describes it to Martha. Towering trees with sparkling silver leaves, glowing in the golden light of the twin suns. The long crimson grass sways in the slight breeze, and the mountain peaks majestically glisten with freshly fallen snow. Beautiful, isn't it? It's the one I use most frequently. I guess because it's always so peaceful. You know, there's really no one here but me on a good day. See what I did there?

Occasionally I come across the odd Dalek, or even a Weeping Angel, but they're more or less frozen. Kinda like my own personal timelock. Just images. Pictures.

My other favorite is the War Doctor's desktop. It's a perfect combination of the Classic and the New Who TARDIS console rooms. That's just me though. Other Whovians actually prefer Eleven's desktop (either one) more than the War Doctor's. Maybe that's because they haven't really watched any of the old stuff. Huh. Something to think about.

Anyways, Toby and Spike are more sports fans than science fiction... I think. I don't really pay that much attention to what they put on TV. I just zone out most of the time. That's okay. They end up watching my stuff with me anyways. I have my ways. Hm? Oh, how do I do it? I have a talent for persuasion when I have a need for it. Let' just say I know their weaknesses. I can be pretty diabolical when I have to be. *evil laugh*

I was raised on Doctor Who and Star Trek as a child, which explains why I'm... intrigued with it. No, I'm not obsessed! Technically... Hey, technicalities are what make the world go round! Anyways, so I guess you could say when they revived Doctor Who and made the new Star Trek movies (which are amazing, by the way), I basically died and went to 'Nerdvana'. My life became complete, in a weird sense. Oh, sorry! I forgot to mention _when_ I am. Tch, of all the idiotic things to forget in a monologue. Welcome, my oblivious audience, to 2015!

_Zztzztzztzztzzt SMACK!_ My palm connects with the alarm clock from hell, silencing it's infernal cries. I burrow back into my cocoon of blankets, unwilling to subject myself to the unforgiving harshness of the winter season.

I could hear the buzz of the city, the rush of sounds sweeping me away into... hold on a second... the city isn't this busy at four o'clock in the morning. My eyes snap open as I sit upright sharply, my hair falling into my face. I hurry to untangle myself, hitting the floor with an 'oomph!' I blow my rainbow colored hair out of my eyes as I feel around for my phone. I look up, spotting my alarm clock, the bright orange numbers mocking me. '11:15' My eyes widen, and I kick the now useless nest of blankets off of me.

I pull on layers upon layers of clothes, stopping to check if I had gained yet another bruise. I winced as I saw the newly formed purple mark covering my back. _Great,_ I think sourly, _one more thing to add to my list of things gone wrong._ I grab my sleeveless fur coat and my keys, stuffing my iPod into my pocket, and bolt out the door only to run right into my semi-elderly neighbour, Mr Davidson. He lives in the apartment next to mine.

My head bounces off the floor and immediately starts to throb. Papers fluttered to the ground as I scramble off the floor, dashing for the staircase. I holler, "Sorry!" as I start sliding down the slick stairs. Mr Davidson laughs and calls out, "Late again, Lu?" I never got the chance to reply as I manage to make it down to the lobby without any further accidents.

I rush past Mrs Allen and Ms Desceaux, the elderly tenants of apartments 12A and 13F. I burst out the glass doors, heading towards the parking lot. Mrs Allen chuckled. "That Lujayn... always in such a rush." Ms Desceaux just laughed. "At least she's consistent."

I make my way over to my beat up '79 Pinto. I slide into the worn leather seat, and turn the key in the ignition. The engine turns over, and it consequently dies."No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" I chant, punctuating my words with hits to the dashboard.

I fumble for my phone, checking the time. '11:45' "Shit," I swore, headache getting worse. I rest my head on the steering wheel, muttering, "This isn't my day." I climb out of now deceased war horse, only to remember the next bus downtown was in an hour. I groan, leaning against the scuffed and scratched brown paint, clenching my keys in an unrelenting fist.

"Hey!" I ignore whoever it is, too momentarily depressed to care. "Lu!" I whirl around, about to tear whoever it is a new one, only to see Toby; my best friend. Well, one of them.

He jogged up to me, looking slightly concerned. I personally have no idea why. It's definitely not because blood is currently dripping down my hand... wait, what?! How in the name of insanity did I miss that?! Yes, I can be oblivious, but I think I should've noticed a red river dripping onto the pavement!

As soon as he reached me, he grabbed my left hand, checking to see where I was bleeding from. "What did you do, hold your keys in a death grip?" he chastised me lightly, checking for any further damage. He looks over his shoulder to the ambulance, calling out to his partner. "Hey, Oz! Bring over some bandages, will you?"

He glances up at me. "Want to tell me where the bruises came from?" he asked knowingly. I blink, glancing down at my now purple right hand. Huh. I decided to look over at the apartment building, finding the brick patterns very interesting all of a sudden. "Don't be a smartass, Toby, it doesn't suit you," I grumble.

Ozman Bey, Toby's partner, finally decides to join us. "Hey, Oz, where were you when the interrogation started?!" I cried out mock-indignantly. "Doing something important," he retorted. Toby, being the spoilsport that he is, decided to break up the fight before it even started. "Girls, you're both pretty," Toby said exasperatedly. "Lu, please stop abusing your car." I huff and cross my fingers. "I make no promises," I declare, sticking out my tongue like the 5 year old I am inside. Toby finishes wrapping my hand, stands up, and immediately becomes my knight in shining armour, as per usual.

"Do you need a lift to work?" he asks, elbowing Oz to cut off any verbal protests he might've made. I grin sheepishly at them both, glad to see nothing has changed as I rub the back of my head. "Please?"

Oz just grumbles, stomping back to the ambulance petutantly. Toby just smiles knowingly. "You wanna sit in the back, Lu? Or do you wanna ride up front with Oz?" I knocked into him with my shoulder as I passed him, calling to him over my shoulder, "Leave the redundancies and sarcasm to me, okay?" He chuckles, jogging to catch up to me, mumbling, "Whatever you say, Lu."

I hop out of the ambulance ten minutes later, just as they get a call. "Thanks, guys!" I call out as they drive away. A wistful smile appears on my face as I watch them speed off. _I wish my job was a bit more exciting, _I mentally sigh.

I suddenly remember that I'm extremely late, and I dash inside before I add another twenty minutes onto my 'penalty'. I flash my I.D. at my favorite security guard, Sebastian, and slide into the room, multicolored hair flying like a flag behind me.

Everyone at their desk pauses and looks up, giving me a wary smile. I manage to squeak out, "Sorry I'm late." Calvin Webber, the shift supervisor, stormed out of his office, a smirk on his face. "Holt!" I eyed him warily, unsure if I wanted to answer. "Yes sir?" I managed, trying to keep my lip from curling in disgust.

See, Calvin is a slimy little douche who had kept hitting on me. It got so bad I filed a sexual harassment complaint. This guy wouldn't take no for an answer. He's had it out for me ever since.

"I told you if you were late again, that you were out of a job." I raised my eyebrow. "When was this?" I ask incredulously, hastily adding a 'sir' when his face started turning pink. "Doesn't really matter if you remember, Holt, the point is that _I _remember. And what I say goes." The smirk grew as I protested. Sadist. "You're officially out of a job, Holt. Unless," he moved closer whispering in my ear, "you _persuade_ me." I stiffened, mentally groaning. _Great. Just what I need. Could this get any worse? _I could feel everyone's eyes on us, and I ground out, "Not in a thousand years, or even if you were Spock himself... _Sir_."

His face turned purple in his anger as some of the workers who heard began to chuckle. I could practically hear his teeth grinding as he spit out, "Get your things and leave. Here is your paycheck for last week. You have ten minutes to get out before I call security." He stomped back to his office, steam rising from his ears.

I felt a small grin crawl across my face. Finally. This idiot's been messing with me for _years_! He's changed my shift schedule over 15 times, uploaded viruses to my computer, (I have a hacker for a friend), and he even went as far as to 'forget' to pay me for overtime. That only happened a couple of times. You mess with my money, you've got hell to pay. And boy oh boy, did he ever _pay_.

Nina, one of the senior dispatchers, smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry 'bout it, hon. Oh! Before I forget," she opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a brown paper package. I thought I was the only one who did that. Oh, sorry, I mean the packaging. I'm very old school when it comes to stuff like that.

"This came for you, no return address, or note. I checked. Here you go." She held it out to me. I take it from her gently. I smile softly. "Thanks Nina." We hear from the worm's office, "Seven minutes!" I roll my eyes, and stroll over to my desk. Like any security guard here would kick me out. Except Bernie. Bernie is a _monster_, I swear! He's like, 6 ft 5, and all muscle. Let's just say Bernie and I don't get along. Period. It's a long story.

I go through my drawers, grabbing my tennis ball, all fifteen different packages of gum, my lighter, ten candy canes, some travel size duct tape (duct tape is awesome, enough said), an ultraviolet pen, a devil drive (I try to get Spike with this all the time... it hasn't worked so far), space emergency blanket, envelope x-ray spray (which is surprisingly handy), credit card lock pick set (I've forgotten my keys multiple times), my bag of caffeinated popcorn (yummy), and a titanium escape ring (no idea why I own this). I shove everything in my pockets, except the ring. That I put on my finger.

I turn around to find a red-faced Mr Webber right behind me. Before he can open his mouth, I salute him and Nina, shout 'sayonara' to the room and make for the door. On my way out, I drop off my I.D. with Sebastian, who is like the little brother I never had. He looks at it warily, then glances up at me. "Were you fired?" he whispers, shocked. I shrug. "Yeah... he finally got rid of me. Only took him 2 years."

Sebastian frowns, eyes downcast. "Will you come visit?" he murmurs. I smile at him, ruffling the eighteen year old's hair. "Course, I will! I'll even make you the Famous Italian Ultima Sandwich." He looks up, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "Promise?" he says hopefully. I nod. "Promise." His grin gets bigger. "Great!"

I spot a fuming Calvin stalking towards me out of the corner of my eye, Bernie behind him. Damn. I whisper, "I'll take you out to lunch on your birthday Friday, okay? That's only four days from now. Can you hold out til then?" Sebastian nods, then pushes me out the door. "Go!" he says urgently, "I don't want to get you into trouble." I raise an eyebrow, giving him a look. "Really?" I ask incredulously. Seb only rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion. I chuckle and waltz out the door before Mr Webber can catch me. Yes, it's good to be King.

I look down at the brown paper package in my hand, curious to see what it held. I spot a bench further down the sidewalk. I jog up to it, and plop myself down. I study the little parcel intently. "Right then," I mutter, "Let's see what you are."

I unwrap it, only to find a note, and a faded blue laminated cardboard box. I set the box down, and read the tiny little piece of paper stuck to the top of the box. _Time and tide wait for no one. So jump on in._ I look for a signature, only to find the Seal of Rassilon on the lid. I frown. _Why would someone use that? No one likes Rassilon nowadays._

I carefully lift up the lid to the package, only to find a toy vortex manipulator and a silver TARDIS journal inside. I raise a hand to my mouth, touched. The journal was obviously custom made. Probably cost a small fortune. I put the journal into one of my many pockets, and decided to strap the manipulator onto my left wrist, setting the date and time. "Well," I sighed, standing up. "Now I need to cash that cheque in. Hooray." I mumble. And with that, I began my trek to the nearest TD.

A half hour later, I walk into the cozy, heated TD Canada Trust building. Like every other client that enters, I'm ignored by everyone in my general vicinity. I hear one of the tellers call out, "Next!" as I join the line. It wasn't very long. There were only about 5 people ahead of me.

There were a few lollygaggers just standing in front of the windows, trying to convince themselves to brave the cold. Including a very pregnant woman. I mentally sigh as I look around. _I can't wait to go home. I get to sit in front of the heater with some hot chocolate and whiskey and watch a lousy soap opera. _

The line slowly shuffled forward. I moved with it, not really paying any attention to my surroundings, caught up in an argument between Me, Myself, and I. The topic? What stupidity I was going to watch when I got home. It was currently a tie between Downtown Abbey and Grey's Anatomy. I didn't really care, Me wanted to stare at sexy doctors, and Myself just wanted to laugh at rich people's misfortune. And then my imaginary pet griffin named Bob decided he wanted to watch General Hospital. I was so absorbed in my inner monologue-slash-cat fight, that I nearly missed when the slightly aggravated teller sourly called out, "Next!" to me.

I skipped up to her desk, a wide, cheesy grin smeared all over my face. "Hiiii," I drag out, raising my hand to give a little wave. "I'd like to cash this in, please. And empty my savings account, if it would be no trouble." We both pause at this, me especially. Why did I say that? It was like... I had no control over my voice just a second ago. "Oh! And can I get it in pounds, please?" Alrighty, I'm officially freaking myself out.

My brow furrowed, but I quickly smoothed out my face so that the teller would hopefully not get too suspicious. Okay, maybe she was already a little creeped out, but that's only because of... oh, alright, she already thinks I'm crazy, what does it matter now. The previously mentioned teller, whose fake blonde hair and smiles were fooling nobody, gave me an odd look and drawled out, "Sure. I need some ID and your bank card." I quickly hand her both, suddenly very impatient. "I'll be right back with your withdrawal, Ms Holt," she mutters, heading to the back. I nod, not trusting myself to say something normal.

Another teller by the name of Susan comes up. "You're in luck, Miss! One of our customer's canceled a transaction in pounds, and we just so happen to have enough here. Would you like your money in small bills?" she cheerfully asks. I nod, giving her a slight smile. "Half and half would be wonderful, thanks. If it's not too much trouble," I hurriedly add, knowing how much work that would be for the cheery brunette. The corners of her mouth lift up in a smile as she declares, "Not at all, ma'am! We'll be right back with your transaction, Ms Holt." As she runs off, I look at the wall only to notice that it's now three in the afternoon. I sigh.

_So... I'll need to go job hunting for the next few days. Thankfully, I always pay my rent in advance, so I'm set for the next few months. I've got enough food stocked away to last until Christmas, and I have enough money to pay my bills. So if I don't get a job, then I'll need to head down to Unemployment in about..._ I do a quick calculation in my head, _six weeks. No pressure, then. It'll be good to have a semi-vacation,_ I mused to myself just as the fake blonde and Susan come back out with 25 080 dollars bundled up between them.

"Is that everything?" the blonde, whose nametag reads Sheryl, asks dully. I do a quick mental checklist, even though I don't need to, and give them an affirmative. "Yep! That should be about it." I hand over the box that had previously contained my gifts from the currently unknown sender, and they neatly fit all my cash inside it. I smiled at them, calling out, "Thanks, have a nice day," over my shoulder, heading towards the doors.

I pass by the line, only to bump into a man in dark clothes. I look up into his aviators, apologizing profusely. "I am so sorry," I babble. He shrugs me off, and I take out my phone, dialing a very familiar number. I hear them pick up, and a very familiar voice washes over me. "Not a good time, Jaynie." I start talking in a low tone.

"Listen closely, okay? I'm pretty sure someone's gonna rob the Canada Trust on Fourth." I could hear the person on the line straighten, recognizing my tone of voice. I would never joke about something like this. "What makes you say that," they ask softly, obviously concerned. "Because I'm pretty sure someone wearing all black, a fake beard and moustache with aviators and a hat doesn't need a Glock for a deposit," I hiss, just as the same gun I was talking about went off.

I spin around, phone dropping to my side as I hear them call out my name worriedly. I hang up and hide my phone in my boot discreetly, searching for injuries automatically. I spot blood on one of the booths, and instantly know that things just took a turn for the worse.

**Interlude: Team One**

"Jaynie? Jaynie, what was that? Answer me, dammit!" Spike shouted desperately. When the dial tone was all that met his ears he knew she didn't make it out of the building. He runs over to Sgt Parker immediately, crying out, "Boss!"

"What is it, Spike," Sgt Parker answers, running a hand over his tired eyes. It had been a long day. "It's Jaynie," Spike says hurriedly as he wrings his hands together. Lujayn never called when he was on duty. _Ever_. She thought it might distract him from his job and put more lives in danger that way. So for her to call meant something was wrong... and she couldn't see a way out.

Sgt Parker froze instantly. Uh-oh. He recognized that tone of voice. Spike was worried. That did not bode well. Especially if Lujayn was in the line of fire. "What's going on Spike?" Ed asks, walking over to them with Sam and Jules. "Jaynie... I think she's in the middle of a bank robbery... she might have been shot."

Ed immediately sprang into action. "Did she say where?" Lujayn was close to the team. She was considered family. She was there for all of them when Lewis died. She helped keep them together. Especially Spike. If he lost her as well...

"Uh, she said it was the TD on Fourth Street," Spike recalled anxiously. Sgt Parker nodded, decision made. "Alright, everyone, gear up! Let's go!" he shouted as they all scattered to the SUVs. As he called it in to Winnie, he could only hope that they got there in time. And that Lujayn would still be alive when they got there.

**Interlude: The Mind of a Killer**

"Everybody on the ground, now!" he shouts, firing a round into the air. A few of the patrons scream, but everyone does as he says. Except for one. The slut that had bumped into him earlier. _So the bitch wants to play, huh?_ He thought cruelly. "I said now!" he screams, spittle flying from his lips as he swings the firearm at her. She gestured to behind him, where two terrified tellers were on the floor, crying. "She needs help," she says softly, like she was talking to an upset child. She raises her hands, palms outwards, trying to soothe him. It only makes him angrier.

He stalks over to her, and grabs a fistful of her atrociously colored hair, pulling her closer to him. "I said," he hisses through his clenched teeth, "get down!" He backhands her with the gun in his hand, letting go of her hair so she falls to the floor. Blood drips out of the corner of her mouth. _That's what happens to sluts who defy me, _he thinks darkly, turning back to the tellers who were huddled together in a corner, one clutching her bleeding shoulder.

He never noticed the girl with the multicolored hair get up behind him, jacket now with the ginger pregnant woman on the floor. "She needs medical attention." He whirled around at the sound of her voice, somewhat disbelieving. "The bleeding needs to stop," she continues, unfazed by the wild look in his eye. He growls, anger flowing through him like magma. _This'll show that hussy,_ he thinks, a snarl sprawled across his face.

He marches over to her and knees her in the stomach. The gasps from the hostages only fuel his unadulterated fury as she falls to the ground once again, choking on air. He bludgeons her with his feet, kicking her in the abdomen and back mercilessly, not satisfied until she coughs up crimson. He kneels down and grabs her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. "If you don't stay down... I'll put you down," he whispers menacingly.

He slams her head into the ground before he gets up and looks at his handiwork. She lays there, panting, eyes glassy and seemingly incoherent. Blood dribbles down her chin and in her hair. He looks away as he hears sirens in the distance, and smiles. Finally. It was only a matter of time now.

**End Interlude**

I lay there on the cold, hard floor, finding it hard to breathe. I could feel the bruises blooming all over my body; just like I could taste the tang of fear and blood in the air. This man... had no compassion. He was too far gone in his insanity. That, or he was like this from day one. The sound of the whimpers from the tellers floated over to my ears as my ragged breathing slowed.

One of the hostages was crying... in fear or relief, I don't know. The screech of tires came from outside, paramedics and police officers alike jumping out of the vehicles. A small smile drifted across my face, so faint you could doubt it's existence.

_Good... they came. My boys never let me down, huh?_ I groan as some of my muscles move the wrong way, drawing a sharp breath in between my teeth. _He really did a number on me, huh? I could really use some Tylenol right about now..._

I could literally feel the relief racing through the hostages; their hope was tangible. Our captor, however, seemed oblivious to that. I started running through a list of injuries in case Toby was one of the paramedics stationed outside. _One heavily pregnant woman, uninjured; one gunshot wound, arm, losing blood steadily. Possible chance of infection. Few bruises, head wound. No major or life threatening injuries. And one case of insanity._

I moved my head over so I could see the pregnant woman. My coat rested on her belly, and I could see a light underneath it. _Shit..._ She had her phone on. If he saw her... she caught my gaze and smiled shakily. I managed to give her a lopsided grin before a moan of pain crosses my lips. The chill from the tiles seep into my bones, soothing my inflamed bruises and causing mild discomfort. But that's all forgotten as a phone rings.

I momentarily panic until I see our captor pull out an old flip phone and gruffly answer it. "Baby girl? Yeah, no worries, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna be home soon. Yeah, I promise. Is Mommy there? Could you put her on, darling? Good girl." His voice gets darker when someone else comes to the line. "Listen you jackass, if you touch her, your dead. Just like all these bastards," he said, waving the gun in our direction. He abruptly hangs up and starts pacing furiously before coming to a halt and bending down to look at me. "You'll do nicely..." he murmurs, reaching out to snatch my hair.

He gets up, pulling me with him. I wince as he drags me over to the glass doors with the gun at my temple. _At least the others are safe_, I mentally sigh just as my hearing starts to fade out from the rush of blood. He jostles my limp body, trying to prove a point to the police officers that have their weapons trained on him. I close my eyes, feeling drained. My body utterly relaxes, just as I feel air beneath me. I hear a gunshot just as I hit the pavement, the noise causing me to open my eyes and grimace in pain.

I spot a pool of blood, near the head of the man who was just threatening my life. It took a few seconds to sink in before I realized that it was over. He was dead. I went numb when an officer gently helped me up and over to an ambulance. Why do I feel so... dead inside?

I sit there, letting the paramedic check me out, not resisting his probing fingers. Time flies by me as I listlessly sit there, waiting. When the prodding stops, I look up only to see Toby's concerned face hovering over me, Spike right behind him. A lone tear rolls down my face, and I latch onto to them, silently mourning the life I couldn't save.

I was leaning against the ambulance, gathering the courage to leave, when Sgt Parker came up to me, Team One in tow. "How're you doing, Lujayn?" he asks, concern leaking into his voice. I smiled wryly. "Sore, but alright, considering. Thank you," I added. "If it weren't for you guys, everyone in there would probably be six feet under by now."

Ed ruffles my hair, earning a death glare from me. "Don't mention it, kiddo." I grin at them, rubbing the back of my head. "I gotta head home. I'll see you all at mine this weekend for the big game, alright?" They all give their affirmatives, and then I start shooing them away. "Now, shoo! I've got to go see where my coat ran off to."

They comply, smiles on their faces and amusement in their eyes. I turn towards the mass of squad cars, trying to spot the woman with the flame red hair. I sigh, not seeing her. I turn around, only to find her standing right behind me, my fur coat in folded up in her hands.

"Thank you. For what you did back there, I mean. If it weren't for you, I'm afraid on of us might not be breathing right now." I immediately start to protest. I hadn't done anything. I managed to get myself beaten up, but I did nothing to keep them safe. I wish I had.

She cut off my protests with a smile on her face. "You're the reason none of us are hurt. Oh, here." She passed me my coat. "You forgot this." I take it from her, looking down at the bundle of fur in my hands, only to glance up and find her gone. I paused, twirling around, trying to see where she went. I shrugged when I couldn't spot her, giving up. I started walking, pulling out my headphones, preparing myself for the journey home. Some fresh air would do me some good.

Two hours later, the sun was setting, and I was only a half an hour away from my apartment building. I strode across the bridge, humming along to Titanium with my hands in my pockets. I smelt the burnt rubber before I heard the screeching tires.

I felt someone shove me towards the railing just as I turned to look behind me. I caught myself before I could fall over the edge, headphones dangling in front of me. I spin on my heels, eyes immediately landing on the car crash just a few feet away.

Pedestrains swarmed the wreckage, trying to get the passengers out. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see a woman and her kids shakily climb out of the minivan with only a few scratches and bruises. I spot someone dialling 911 out of the corner of eye as I turn to peer over the metal rail that thankfully saved me from a fifty foot drop into the freezing cold water below.

I shiver, knowing how close I came to tumbling to my death. I move to continue my trek home when I feel someone push me roughly. I stumble, trying to regain my balance when someone shoves me, and I tumble over the metal safety rail.

My eyes widen as I feel nothing but air beneath me. I reach futilely for the rusted metal, trying to grasp the my only chance at survival. I hear screams as a crowd gathers at the edge to watch me plummet to my death. Curiosity takes over as the wind brushes its tendrils through my hair, as if to soothe me.

I spot a girl with a grim look in her eyes, sadness written across her face. She catches my eye, apology crossing her face before she disappears in a flash of light. I close my eyes as I felt a warmth engulf me, bracing myself for impact, expecting to hit the icy water below.

I landed on the hard tarmac with a thud. I open my eyes as the breath got knocked out of me, causing me to grunt as my sore ribs were jostled. I lay there, confused. _Alright_, I rationalized, _maybe I'm in some kind of limbo. Either that, or I'm stuck haunting my apartment for the rest of my life. Or... heaven is made of concrete._

I continued to lie there, eyes closed, listening. I could hear the wind whispering past, and I could smell faint exhaust fumes. The air seemed cleaner, and the promise of rain could be felt in the air. A crow cawed somewhere in warning, just as thunder boomed across the sky. I could very nearly taste the electricity in the atmosphere as the first few raindrops pattered over my skin.

I shuddered, eyes popping open as the rain began to fall in earnest. I shot up, glancing around as I got to my feet. I was in a junkyard. A small one, but it was a junkyard nonetheless. I spotted an old picture frame, covered in muck. I walked over to it, pulling a rag out of one of my many pockets.

I kneel as I go to wet the piece of cloth in a puddle nearby, whiping my now drenched hair out of my face, and then start wiping away the dirt and grime to reveal an ornate golden masterpiece. I stop, marveling at the complexity of the patterns, reaching out to trace them, when I get shocked.

I pull back, hissing, turning my hand over to check the damage. I noticed the brown leather strapped around my wrist. I stare at it, confused, before recognition assaulted me. The vortex manipulator. Huh.

I turned my wrist over, suddenly eager to check the date. In bright bold letters and numbers, it read: November 23rd, 1963. I froze. Was time travel possible when you die? They never specified on any of those supernatural shows.

I hear a familar wheezing sound echo behind me, and I turn around in apprehension as a police call box starts to phase in front of me. I close my eyes as the wind picks up, relishing in the groaning sound of the engines. As it finally materializes, I open my eyes in awe. I reach out to stroke the old, faded blue wood. Before my fingers made contact with me personal version of the Holy Grail, I hear voices.

"Don't worry, Grandfather! I'll take an umbrella. I'll be just fine. I'll see you after school, alright?" I hear the doors creak open, and panic strikes. I race around behind the sentient time machine, and press myself against the blue wooden panels. I listen to Susan's footsteps as she prances away, humming under her breath as she went. I look around, making sure she was gone before I ran back up to the doors.

"Impossible..." I breathe out, splaying my hand against the worn blue paint. I feel the hum underneath my palm, warmth emanating from the wooden surface. I step back in shock. "No one could ever possibly imitate that, no matter how hard they tried," I murmur. Terror and excitement start to swirl inside me, and all of a sudden I can't breathe.

I rush out of the junkyard, trying to clear my head. _Could this all be a dream? Some sort of nightmare? Maybe my subconcious is just playing tricks on me. No, that can't be it. In the bank, I felt pain. And I felt pain when I landed here. That means this isn't a dream. So I did die. _I come to a stop at a street corner, bracing myself against the brick wall of a building.

_But I don't feel dead. Everything hurts._ I ran my hands over my sodden clothes, ghosting over my injuries. I accidentally prod a small gash from my fall. I yelp as it starts stinging. _So I was right... this isn't a dream._

I lean against the solid building, defiance shattered as the rain kept pouring down. _Does that mean I'm actually in a different country, in a different time zone, in a different universe? _

I run a hand through my hair, trying to see the positive side of things. _At least I'm not actually dead. But my money's no use, and my hair will stand out like a neon sign._

I hear footsteps coming from further down the empty street. _So shouldn't I be hiding?!_ Alarm courses through me as I turn the corner, pressing myself against the wall. _Yeah, because this is definetly considered hiding_, I think sourly. I hold my breath as they get closer, releasing it as they pass by. I close my eyes in relief, and turn to go back the way I came when I spot a windbreaker wrapped in plastic at my feet.

I frown, spotting a note. I crouch down, trying to read the messy writing. _To one Miss Holt. May it keep you dry. Signed, Captain Harkness._ My frown deepens. Jack? I sigh, picking up the bag and putting my box of money and all my perishables inside of it. At least it will help keep me warm. I look up to the cloud covered sky, and start the run back to the scrap heap. I had some work to do.

I shiver, trembling from the chill. I had been hiding in my little cave of rubbish I had built for the past three days. I hadn't gotten a chance to scrounge for food yet. The rain had stopped that night, so there were tons of people roaming the streets.

The TARDIS just sits there, day by day. Susan comes and goes. So does my fever. The emergency blanket I have helps, and so does the windbreaker from one Captain Jack. My clothes had mostly dried, and all my stuff remained untouched by the rain. I'm surprised I haven't passed out yet.

The gates creak open, and I try to still myself. _There's Susan,_ I think tiredly, trying to stop shaking. Just as she goes to open the TARDIS doors, I sneeze. She pauses, looking around the piles of junk. "Is anybody there?" she calls, cautious. I try to quiet my ragged breathing, starting to hack up a lung. Being quiet obviously wasn't working out for me so well.

Susan moved away from the blue doors, towards my hideout. "Hello?" I hear her whisper, moving aside the unwanted treasures. I blink harshly, dizziness hitting me all of a sudden. My body tilts precariously towards my wall of garbage, the only thing currently keeping me from Susan's keen eyes. With a crash, I hit the concrete, knocking all the abandoned items to the ground.

I see black spots encroaching my vision, the chill seeping into my body. I started to shake uncontrollably, huddled in a ball as my head continues spinning. I hear a gasp, and I can feel the vibrations through the ground as she comes closer. I grit my teeth as pain blooms in my skull. _Make it stop_, I try to whimper,_ please make it stop_.

A whine escapes my throat as my body writhes involuntarily, my eyes squeeze shut to try and stop the pain. I feel a cool hand touch my forehead, soothing the pounding in my head. I hear a shout and the hand vanishes, leaving me alone in my pain induced stupor. The pounding came back with a vengeance as my muscles screamed and my bones ached. Pins and needles tortured my organs as my mind pitifully called out to the girl I knew had already left. _Don't go, please don't leave me,_ my subconcious pleaded as the darkness crept up on me, promising a temporary end to the madness. I let the dark embrace me, and the I knew nothing but ebony dripping with agony.

My mind jerks awake when I feel the fever coursing through my body like magma. I try to open my eyes, try to see. My muscles won't respond. I scream at myself, attempting to get up, to move, to retain any semblance of control. The air gets denser, and soon I feel like I'm breathing in water. My heart thumps erractically in my chest, the pain and the heat making my internal systems go haywire. My limbs start to jerk as I feel myself slipping away, back into oblivion. The pain worsens, refusing to relinquish it's grasp on my consciousness. A groan rips itself from my throat as it reaches a climax. I feel a soothing presence enter my mind, chasing the pain away, leaving me to drift into a dream. This time when I slept, instead of pain, I dreamt of a man who ran away and never stopped.

My eyes snapped open as my body jerked forward. My vision swan as my head spun, making my lean over the side of the bed I was lying in in pain. I tried not to retch when I felt a presence beside me, rubbing my back. My body turns numb, and I go limp, unable to support myself. The unknown person helps me back into bed, smoothing down my sweat drenched hair. I blink blearily, trying to convince my eyesight to clear. A pixie like face is looking down at me with a gentle smile, turning to talk to a a human shaped shadow in the corner of the room. I recognize her, my cognitive thought process kicking into gear as I whisper, "Susan..." The last thing I see is her shocked face and the figure stiffening before I fell back into an unconscious state.

I'm wandering. Neither here nor there, floating in my mindscape. Or rather, my memories. Snapshots flit by, all in monochrome. I snag one with my fingertips, studying it closely. It was a picture of me piggybacking Toby at the carnival with fireworks in the background. A soft smile pulls at my lips. I let it go, grabbing the next one closest to me. I glance down at me with Team One, all of us yelling at the TV, waving our arms in the air like madmen. I chuckle, running a fingertip over the photo's surface. That day, the Team had invited me to watch the hockey game with them. I wasn't a hockey person, or I wouldn't know if I was a hockey person, because I had never really learned the rules or ever really watched a game. But I had gotten into it. I glance behind me, spotting a wrought iron gate towering over me, casting no shadow. I float over to it, pushing it open, and I step into a grandiose hall made of stone with dark red and gold accents. I gaze up at the ceiling, which was nothing more than a midnight sky, in amazement. I laugh, twirling around, skirt swishing around my legs. I pause. _A skirt?_ I look down at myself, only to find I'm dressed in an old fashioned night gown, nothing on my feet. I giggle, not disturbed by my new wardrobe, when I've never worn a dress in my life. I hear footsteps, so I rush over to one of the pillars, hiding.

A little girl in a nightdress peeks out from behind the seemingly bleached white marble, tiny black and gold veins running up the length of the pillars. An elderly gentleman is standing in the middle of the room. A frown appears on the little girls face, hair falling into her eyes. "You're not supposed to be here," she says, tilting her head to the side, confused. The man spins on his heels to face the entrance to the hall where she suddenly appeared. "Oh? Why's that then, hm?" he asks her, curiosity leaking into his voice. She shakes her head, wrapping her small arms around her torso. "You're not supposed to be here," she repeated, tears running down her face. "You're not supposed to be here!" she screams, head tilted towards the ceiling as she sinks to the cold stone floor as the walls start trembling. The old man backs away, startled at her violent reaction as the magnificent place fell apart at the seams. As the marble tumbles away, a dark, dank dungeon covered in wet straw replaces it. The blonde child had disappeared from his line of sight, but a faint sniffling could be heard from behind one of the walls. The straw made a limp crunching sound as he walked over it, trying to locate the origin of the sad sound. He found her, curled up in a ball, sobbing as she lay in a pile of damp straw. He sat down next to her with a groan, patting her back to try to comfort her, seeing his appearance is what caused her tantrum. "Now, then," he asks, "what's wrong, hm?" concern leaking into his voice. Her little body trembled as a faint whimper was heard. "You're not supposed to be here." The old man's face softens a smidge. "Is my being here that upsetting, my dear?" he inquires. The blonde little girl raises her tearstained face to look at him, sniffing as she shakes her head slowly. He gives her a small smile, deciding to ask another question. "Then what is the problem, child, hm?" She glances down at her knees, which are now drawn up to her chest, and shakes her head again. "You can't be here. Not here, not here!" she repeats, rocking back and forth on the old damp straw. The old man sighed, before ruffling the child's golden hair. "Why's that, then?" he asked her quietly, not wanting to upset her. She sits up straighter, a blank look taking over her face. "Because you're a Time Lord. A Time Lord who ran away from Gallifrey in a blue box." She turned to face him, not one emotion flitting across her face. "And you can't be here." The room started to fade away, causing the now angry Time Lord to stiffen. A whisper floated on a small breeze. "But I can show you where you can be..." A tiny ball of light zipped in front of the old man's face, before leading him to a a brick wall. The light sank into one of the bricks, causing them to move in a fashion similar to Diagon Alley. The old man walked through, not questioning why, or how, considering he was a guest here. A voice called out to him. "Welcome... Doctor." He whirled around, to find the door he used had vanished, and a library had taken it's place. A stern looking blonde woman with a pair of black glasses perched on her nose was walking down a set stairs towards him. An insincere smile spread across her face as she said, "I hope you had no trouble finding your way here. A tends to be a little... childish." The old man merely nodded. "So it would seem," he replied, glancing around in slight awe of his surroundings. "You may address me as L. While you are here, you may read anything that is not in the Restricted section. You are not allowed to venture outside of this room. And if you need anything," she pushed her glasses up onto her nose, the glare hiding her eyes, "do not hesitate to call on me." He nodded, once again looking at his surroundings. "I most certainly will not," he says, flicking his gaze to the spot he had seen her last, only to find that she had vanished into thin air. He sighed, moving towards one of the large bookcases. "Well then," he mumbles, "let's get started."


End file.
